


if you're gonna be the death of me that's how i wanna go

by accioromulus



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, M/M, MWPP Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-08
Updated: 2014-12-08
Packaged: 2018-02-28 17:17:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2740607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/accioromulus/pseuds/accioromulus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seventeen year-old boys do not fall in-love, especially with one another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	if you're gonna be the death of me that's how i wanna go

 

He wakes to Sirius’s hair tickling his bottom lip, their legs entangled. Sirius’s hand curls sleepily around Remus’s hip, and he murmurs wordlessly into Remus’s collarbone. With no one to hide from on this Christmas Holiday, the bed-curtains were left tied-up, and Remus can see the snowflakes whirling moodily outside, the sky beyond a thick, oppressive grey. No, there will be no going outside today.

Remus’s hands find themselves almost accidentally in Sirius’s hair, brushing back strands here and there, grazing his scalp, and when Sirius sighs gently into Remus’s neck, he has to remind himself that he is not in-love. Seventeen year-old boys do not fall in-love, especially with one another. But, here he is; and so, he hopes, is Sirius.

There’s a distant howling of wind from somewhere in the castle near-by, and Remus burrows himself further into their blankets, into Sirius, who blinks sleepily at him.

“s’Cold,” Remus murmurs, distracted by the way Sirius’s eyelashes still quiver with sleep.

“You’re warm,” Sirius tells him, tugging him closer. They’re both wearing only boxers, a mere two layers of thin cotton between them, and Remus is caught half-way between thinking that this is both not enough, and too much.

This thing between them is new, and fragile, but Remus can hold it in his hands. It has been a long-time coming; countless months, years, even, though Remus doesn’t care to admit it. Too-long glances, too-long touches, and desperate, desperate wishing, exploding into life with a single touch, in a library, in the dead-of-night. Beneath an invisibility cloak, actually, but James needn’t know that. 

And now they were gone, James on a family holiday that Sirius had declined his invitation to, and Peter’s mother wanting him home for Christmas.

Sirius had elected to stay, supposedly because the moon was at the beginning of the holidays, and he didn’t want to impose on James’s family. And all of it had been true—

But there was, of course, another reason.

Sirius drags his lips and his teeth slowly along the inside of Remus’s throat, and Remus leans his head back, even now, still dazed with the reality of this moment; up until now, it’s been broom-cupboards and deserted classrooms, Sirius’s fingers gently squeezing his own beneath the table at breakfast. It had been desperate and needy, quick, trousers still around his knees, Sirius’s name swallowed for the sake of secrecy.

But now.

God, Remus will miss it.

He feels guilty for wishing James and Peter would take just a little-longer in coming back, because he does miss them, as he always does. He’s being selfish, he knows, in wanting Sirius to himself; in wanting to kiss Sirius whenever he pleases, instead of skulking around bathrooms and pretend-chats behind his closed four-poster curtains. Both of their silencing charms have seen great improvements in the last few months, but now that Remus has had a taste of Sirius this way, letting it go seems near-impossible.

“Moony, what are we going to do when they come back?” Sirius sighs into his neck, one hand splayed across Remus’s hip, the tips of his fingers dipping beneath the band of Remus’s boxers. Remus seeks out Sirius’s lips by way of answer, rolling onto his back and pulling Sirius along with him. He doesn’t want to think about it yet, because there is no right answer, nothing to be done—short of telling them, which is simply not an option.

“I don’t know, Pads,” He finally answers, his voice a mere breath. Sirius is resting between Remus’s thighs, and Remus drags his fingertips down the other boy’s back, feeling him shudder. “What can we do?”

They both know the answer, and they both know that in just hours, their dormitory will have two additional occupants; and so, they do the only thing they can do. Sirius sits up enough to discard Remus of his boxers, kissing quiet, urgent kisses down his chest, his stomach. This will not be the last time Sirius has Remus like this, but this will be the last morning they spend this way, alone, unconcerned with everything but one another, and the knowledge of this is heavy and aching in Remus’s chest. 

All at once, Sirius is here, and then there, and Remus shudders as the other boy lowers his mouth, either hand anchoring themselves to Remus’s hips, pressing him into the bed. Sirius’s mouth is hot and wet, his tongue dragging expertly along Remus’s cock, and he moans around Remus, fingers digging into the other boy’s hips, head bobbing. Remus is gasping, hands clenched in Sirius’s hair, and when Sirius locks eyes with him, Remus stutters out Sirius’s name, white exploding behind his eyes. There’s a slight pause then as Remus returns to himself, and then he’s dragging Sirius up over-top of him, the knowledge that this could very-well be their last moment together for some time propelling him forward. Sirius feels it too, dark-eyed and flushed, and when Remus’s hand finds its way into Sirius’s boxers, his teeth close over Remus’s neck.

Minutes later, Remus is collapsed on Sirius’s shoulder, the pair of them panting hard. Remus has his hand pressed flat against the other boy’s chest, the steady pounding of Sirius’s heart dear, and comforting. Sirius’s arm is beneath his neck, one hand playing absently with the ends of Remus’s hair. He tilts his head towards Remus, cheeks flushed, eyes half-lidded, and again, Remus must remind himself that he is not, should not, be in-love.

Sirius eyes are a clear, ringing grey, and they roam from Remus’s eyes, to his lips, to his neck—where they flicker.

“Oh.. dear.” Says Sirius, one corner of his mouth twitching.

“What?”

“Don’t be mad,” He begins, and yes, he’s trying, and failing, not to smirk. Remus makes a move to sit-up, alarmed, but Sirius pulls him back down.

“What is it!” Remus demands. Sirius grazes a thumb across Remus’s jaw-line, along his neck.

“I may have.. given you a hickey.” 

Remus swears and makes a move to dive towards the bathroom, fully intent on assessing the damage, but Sirius pulls him back down, laughing.

“Don’t be mad!” He insists, while Remus groans, rolling onto his back, resigned to staring at the ceiling.

“It’s not.. That bad.” Attempts Sirius. “Really, I’m sure there’s some spell.. Maybe Madame Pomfrey has–”

“–A hickey removing potion?” Remus finishes, glaring at Sirius. 

“Well, I mean, it is technically a bruise?” 

“James and Peter will never leave me alone again.”

“I personally see this as an excellent opportunity to torture and befuddle them.”

“Oh, do you?”

Remus turns onto his side to face Sirius, his expression odd. Too late, Sirius sees the dangerous glimmer in the other boy’s eyes, and too late Sirius raises his arms as Remus rolls heavily on-top of him, hands wrapped around Sirius’s wrists, werewolf strength holding him down as Remus’s mouth lands squarely over Sirius’s neck. Sirius shouts and flails rather admirably, but Remus holds fast, grinning as he releases Sirius from his clutches after a few moments, sitting up to proudly survey his work. 

“Oh, excellent.” Says Remus happily as Sirius clutches at his neck.

“We’re going to have a difficult time explaining _both_ of these.” Sirius grumbles, patting gingerly at his throat. “I feel like this makes me your property or something.”

Remus grins again, pleased, because yes, it does feel something like that. This, at least, will remain—for a little while anyway; proof of their time spent alone together.

He slides off Sirius, still admiring his handiwork, and Sirius curls his arm around Remus’s shoulders, pulling him in closer.

“Vengeful little bastard, aren’t you?”

“When it comes to bodily harm and modification, yes, I’d say so.”

Sirius’s chuckle ruffles the hairs along Remus’s forehead.

No, Remus thinks, sliding an arm around Sirius’s middle. Not in-love at all.


End file.
